


8 Letters

by cloudsNcoffee



Series: Why Don't We [6]
Category: Why Don't We (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Love, Multi, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-09-15 18:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16938411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudsNcoffee/pseuds/cloudsNcoffee
Summary: Nobody's wedding is perfect.Especially not when you're one-fifth of Why Don't We, dealing with multiple meddling best-friends, trying to coordinate a surprise honeymoon, and someone *cough, Christina, cough* insisted on inviting their entire massive Italian family.Or:This was always how it ended.





	1. T Minus Twenty-Three Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:  
> While this was written with the public persona of the band, their friends, and their team in mind, the following work is fiction.  
> I don't know them, own them, or claim to have any insight into their real lives.
> 
>  
> 
> Unbeta-ed, please be kind.
> 
>  
> 
> Caution: This story acknowledges the existence of sex, between consenting adults. It's not explicit.

 

Corbyn.

I’m watching Christina navigate the sea of people between us, admiring her seemingly effortless charm for our various family members and grinning at the death stares she keeps sending my way because I escaped to the bar and left her to fend for the both of us, when Jonah finds me.  
He slings his arm over my shoulder, his other hand anchoring his half-asleep kid to his hip, and grins, “How are you feeling?”  
“Jimmy just asked what I think my odds are of getting smite-ed tomorrow,” I shrug, “So, you can take from that what you will.”  
“Christina’s brother thinks he’s hilarious,” Jonah shifts the baby, and she blinks her big green eyes at me, her little fist closed on the collar of his shirt.

Mila looks like Jonah in the shade of her hair, and the shape of her eyes, but she’s all Eli in everything else. She’s tiny, but lanky for a toddler, with a serious disposition and dimples when she smiles.  
I’m surprised she’s still awake at this hour. It’s nearly nine, and after spending most of the first year of her life on tour with us, because her mom is our band’s choreographer, Mila can sleep through basically anything, anywhere.

I swirl the ice inside my glass, “He usually is.”  
“You’re going to be fine, Corbyn,” Jonah chuckles, “And I’m sure Christina would still want you, even if you were crispy,” He pats my back, “You just repeat after the minister then it’s over.”  
“Easy for you to say,” I roll my eyes, “You and Eli got married with no witnesses. I think Christina invited two-hundred people to this thing.”  
“How do you even know two-hundred people?” Daniel appears at my side, two empty wine-glasses in his hand.  
“Man,” I tip my head towards the horde in front of us finally starting to make their way towards the exit, “This is like a quarter of the people that made the original guest list.”

Having our rehearsal dinner at Carmine’s seemed like a good idea in theory  because even the more traditional Italian members of Christina’s family agree it’s delicious and they know how to feed a crowd, but the atmosphere here has made no one in any hurry to leave. I want to grab Christina and make a run for it before enduring another great-aunt exclaiming how the last time they saw me I was six and bouncing off the walls. Thus, why I'm now in hiding at the bar.

Daniel goes pale imagining the eight hundred people we could’ve had here. For someone who makes a living singing in front of thousands, he really isn’t a crowd person. Christina often jokes he only actually likes his girlfriend, Angelina, and is just loyal enough to tolerate the rest of us.  
“What’d we miss?” Jack stumbles over, trying to pull Zach with him, who’s frozen staring at his girlfriend, Harper, sitting nearby and laughing at something Jack’s girlfriend, Brooke, said.  
Zach gives in and glances over at Daniel’s expression then me, “You’re not getting cold feet are you?”  
“No, Z,” I shake my head, “My feet are perfectly toasty.”  
“That’s good, because we’ve got a plan to tie you to the pulpit. If you’re thinking about running…” Zach smirks.  
“It’s for the good of the world,” Jack adds.  
Zach nods, “Who knows what would happen if you didn’t have Christina?”  
“Mass destruction,” Jack decides.  
I flick ice water from my cup at their faces, “I hate you both.”  
Zach grins, “You know you love us.”

I don’t bother replying, instead distracted by Christina untangling herself from a conversation with her mother and heading straight for me.  
She’s wearing some kind of jumpsuit thing, creamy white against the tan of her skin, months of living in sunny Los Angeles making her glow, and heels. I’m not drooling, but my brain did turn to mush for a solid minute when she walked into the church for our rehearsal this afternoon.  
We’ve been together for years, and I still don’t quite understand how I landed her.  
“Am I interrupting something?” Christina stops outside our circle.  
I reach out and drag her into me, “Nothing important.”  
“Are you ready to get out of here?” She brushes dust off my jacket.  
“Fuck, yes,” I press closer to her. “Language,” Jonah reprimands me, putting his hand over Mila’s head.

Christina laughs, leaning back before I can kiss her, “We’re going out, remember?”  
“Can I convince you otherwise?” Typically, I love taking her out. I love the way she laughs when she’s tipsy, the wild sway of her hips when she dances, and how she falls into my lap when she’s ready to go home at the end of the night.  
Tonight, I’d really rather just get her alone.  
“Not a chance,” Angi grabs Christina’s waist, pulling her away from me, “We’ve already paid for bottle service.”  
“I think that’s my cue,” Eli scoops Mila out of Jonah’s arms, “L'heure du coucher pour toi, mon petit chou,” She looks over at Christina, “I’ll meet you later at,”  
Christina’s life-long best friend, Emily, interjects, practically running across the room, “At the place we aren’t telling Corbyn about!”  
Emily’s decided unilaterally, but without Christina protesting, that I can’t see Christina after midnight and concocted some insane plan to sweep her away like she’s cinderella or something.  
I’m not bitter about it. Not at all.  
“Right,” Eli nods, bouncing her daughter, “You guys have a good time.”  
“We’ll try,” Jonah kisses the top of Mila’s head, then the side of Eli’s. There’s a round of hugging, because something about things like this mandate ridiculous amounts of hugging, but I don’t complain when Mila gifts me one of her sloppy baby kisses on my cheek, and Eli whispers, “It’s one night, then you get her forever."  
As she walks to the exit, Jonah looks about ready to chase after her, and I grab his shoulder, “Oh, no you don't. If I have to endure this, so do you, buddy.”  
“To the club!” Emily cheers, and Jonah and I groan.

Emily ignores me though because she, and probably everyone else on the planet, knows I’d walk through fire for to make Christina happy, especially the way she is when she's holding on to the subway pole with the tips of her fingers, spinning around, and singing off-key Shawn Mendes songs at the top of her lungs with the rest of the girls they've dragged out with us. My whole band is here, but I think we're all in agreement, that we'd much rather listen to their voices than ours tonight. For the first time in days, when Christina points at me while singing 'please have mercy on me, take it easy on my heart', I feel something close to calm, and a real smile on my face.


	2. Five Minutes 'Til Midnight

Christina.

New York City always feels anonymous in a way that I miss in California.  
It’s nice to be able to go out with this group, all of whom are famous on some level, but especially the boys, and not be stopped for a single autograph.

It’s hot here though.  
Especially in this club, at this hour, after staying on the dance flour until my feet are killing me in these shoes. Which is why I let Brooke pull me away, snagging Harper by her wrist to drag her with us, Emily and Angi having already given in and collapsed into the dark corner the guys claimed when we got here.  
I’ve had just enough wine to be happy, to decide I can’t freak out about tomorrow now, but not enough to be sloppy.  
Which is more than I can say for Zach, who’s sprawled out with his head in Jack’s lap, gesturing wildly and crying that he’ll, “Never be able to get her to marry me, Jack. She won’t even admit that she’s actually living with me.”  
It’s possibly the cutest drunken rambling I’ve ever seen.  
Harper, who has heard about as much of it as I have, giggles while she commands, “Sit up, Zach, you’re taking up the whole sofa.”  
“Hopsy,” Zach bolts upright beaming, then tries to be smooth and slide closer to her. Tries because in actuality he just launches himself at her. Harper barely manages to keep him from falling over, smiling against his shoulder once she gets him stable.  
“I was just coming to steal you,” Emily grins at me, rubbing her palms together, “It’s almost midnight.”  
“I better go switch with Eli,” Jonah leaps up.  
Jack laughs, “You could at least pretend to be less excited about that.”  
“In bed is one of top five of my favorite places, and I refuse to apologize for it,” He buttons up his coat, “Also,” His smile is wry, “Mila’s going through the eighteen-month sleep regression. We haven’t slept through the night in a week, and if she’s sleeping now and I don’t start trying to wake Eli up, she won’t make it to their afterparty.”  
“I guess we should head back to the hotel too,” Daniel stands up, and everyone walks outside with him.  
“Excuse me,” I stop Harper when I notice she’s leaving with Zach, “Where do you think you’re going?”  
“To sleep?” She bites her lip.  
I shake my head, “We’re meeting Eli at,”  
“A secret secondary location!” Emily yells, to keep Corbyn from finding out where I’m spending the night. She hasn’t explained why she’s so admit about this, but Corbyn’s indignation over it is funny enough for me to let her insist.  
“Remember?” I smile at Harper.  
“That’s for your bridesmaids though,” She shrugs, “I’m only the designated Mila wrangler.”  
Mila is impossibly easy to love, and although she is usually given whatever she wants without her asking and her precious feet rarely touch the ground due to her abundance of adoring uncles and aunts, me included, she can talk and run when she chooses to. It feels like we blinked, and she went from a tiny baby to a mini-human, and as such, needs constant attention.  
“Which is close enough, and probably more important,” I tug Harper away from Zach.  
She grins, “If you say so.”  
“Good,” I send her towards Angi, who tucks her under her arm, then sticks her tongue out at Zach, who pouts while Jack pulls him along. Daniel winks at her before he joins them.

Corbyn, with his tie undone and jacket tossed over one shoulder standing on the street corner, looks ten times better I dreamt he could at sixteen, and I thought he was the sexiest man on the planet then. There’s honest-to-God butterflies in my stomach when he meets my eyes, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”  
“At six,” I remind him. He hasn’t gotten any better at keeping up with the time though.  
“Like I’d forget,” He grins, and I know him, so I recognize that nervous twitch in his eye.  
I try to make him smile, “I think this is when I’m supposed to say I’ll be the one in white, but honestly, I hope you can recognize my face by now.”  
It works, “Let’s hope,” Corbyn smirks, “It would take me forever to convince you to forgive me if I accidentally married your cousin. I’d have to buy you, like, twenty more puppies.”  
I laugh at his lame joke, while Emily demands, “Let’s go!” already shoving the rest of the girls into a taxi.  
I throw myself at Corbyn first, and he catches me, because he always does, “Goodnight, Chrissy.”  
I kiss him, because I’ve been thinking about it all night, “Goodnight, Corbyn.”  
“Hey!” Emily interrupts us, “I’ve got a crowbar in my bag with your names on it. Break it up, kids!” I laugh, with my forehead resting against his, and watch his eyes change color. “Corbyn!” Emily yells again, “You put her down right this instant. We’ve got things to do!”

Turns out, things to do means glittery face-masks and a splitting a bottle of champagne.  
I think it's Emily idea of a good distraction, because it's really hard to worry about anything while drinking Dom Perignon out of a coffee mug and watching Eli try to teach my girls how to do a ballet tilt.  
“The issue is,” Harper explains, failing completely to position herself even remotely the same way Eli had, “Is that I actually have bones in my body."  
Emily stands up to try, and I pull her right back down next to me, “Nope. If you try that, you’re going to have a black eye in all my wedding pictures.”  
“It can’t be that hard.”  
“It is,” Angi and Harper agree, and I nod. Eli dimples, "Maybe with less champagne in your system."   
“Fine," Emily pouts, then turns on me, “So speaking of your wedding, how nervous are you?”  
“I’m more nervous about whatever Corbyn’s planned for after," I confess, because infuriatingly, "He just told me to ‘think’ warm for our honeymoon, then when I asked if he meant bring warm clothes, or it’ll be warm there, he shouted 'Bikinis' and left the room, so I packed," There's no other word for it, I have four suitcases here, "Everything.”  
“It’ll be fine,” Brooke assures me, with a glint in her eye that I know means she knows more than she’s going to tell me, and so I don’t tell her that’s exactly what everybody says in the movies, right before it all goes wrong.


	3. T Minus Sixteen Hours

Corbyn.

  
I’m wide awake, listening to sirens and car horns outside the window, when I hear the girls come come back. The band always stays in penthouses in New York when we’re traveling as a group, because they have the best security and plenty of bedrooms. This hotel has exactly five, meaning Jonah, Eli, and Mila are sharing the room next to mine, and even though she’s being quiet, I can hear Eli opening their door.  
When Christina, who I was hoping against reason would decide against staying somewhere else, doesn’t open mine, takes me two seconds to decide I don’t care about tradition, or superstition, or Emily’s ridiculous plans to keep her away from me.

I stumble around in the dark, yanking on jeans and a black tee shirt, pulling a black beanie over my hair, then step out into the hallway.  
It’s the lamp on that makes me realize I’m not alone.  
Eli must have left her room while I was distracted getting dressed. She’s standing between me and the outside hallway door, holding a fussy looking Mila in her arms.  
“Oh, she’s sweet but psycho,” Eli whisper-sings, the song somehow sweet sounding due to her vocal range, swaying back and forth, “a little bit psycho, at night she’s screaming, oh, ma-ma-ma, oh ma-ma,” Mila settles immediately at the sound of her voice, and Eli turns my direction. She’s too focused on her baby to notice me though, “Oh, she’s cute but a psycho, so left but she’s right though, at night she’s screaming, oh ma-ma-ma, oh-ma-ma,” Eli tucks her nose against Mila’s hair, “She’ll make you curse, but she’s a blessing, she’ll ruin your shirt, within a second, you’ll be coming back,” She spins slowly, making them both dimple, “Back for seconds with your plate, you just can’t help it, no,” She drags out the word, and I prop myself up against the wall.  
“I seriously doubt that’s on Jonah’s approved list of lullabies,” I smirk.  
Daniel was the cursing police, before Mila. Now Jonah’s crazier about it than he ever was.  
“I caught him singing, ‘we’re up all night to get grumpy’, last weekend,” Eli scrunches up her nose, “He has no space for criticism,” She looks me up and down, “Are you planning to rob a bank?”  
I didn’t exactly think the head to toe dressed in black look through, “I was sneaking out.”  
Eli smiles, “Aren’t you a little old for that?”  
“You were part of the party that stole Christina from me,” I protest.  
“For face masks and brownies,” She rocks Mila, “She’s not going anywhere. You’ll see her tomorrow, Corbyn.”  
“I know, but,” I scuff my shoe against the floor, “I’m not good at sleeping without her.”  
Eli sighs, then points her finger at me, “Don’t leave.” She disappears into her bedroom, and comes back without Mila, shoving Jonah into the hall, “You can’t search the city alone.”  
“Can’t you just tell me where you took her?” I pout, but Eli’s completely immune.  
“No. I’m looking forward to seeing your wedding, which would be difficult after Emily murders me for distributing that information,” Eli presses a black hoodie and baseball cap into Jonah’s hands, then kisses him.  
“Good luck,” She whispers to me, then pulls their door closed with a resounding thud.  
Jonah looks exhausted, but extremely amused, “Well.”  
“Like you’d be any better if Eli and Mila were sleeping in the same city without you,” I huff.  
“Right,” He nods, then arches an eyebrow, “Where do you want to start?”  
“Let’s try to wake Jack up,” I move towards their room, “Maybe Brooke’ll talk, and if not, I’m gonna need him anyway.”  
Jonah chuckles, but follows me, “I think you’re going to need all of us anyway.”

That’s permanently true, I don’t tell him that. The insane set of circumstances that made my career changed everything, but I got these guys, and I’m always grateful to have them by my side, but especially at two in the morning the night before my wedding to help me break into wherever my fiancée’s been hidden by her best friend.

I knock softly on Jack door, twice, before giving up, and pounding on it. After about a minute of that, Zach sticks his head out of his room, “What’s going on?” We’ve been home long enough for him to sober up, but he still looks like a disaster.  
“Where’s Jack?” I open his door, but the room is empty.  
“Not here,” Zach frowns, “He left when the girls came home.”  
“What about Brooke?” Jonah looks past Zach, at Harper, standing behind him wearing Zach’s pajamas.  
“She didn’t come home,” Harper rubs her hand over her eyes.  
“Aren’t we supposed to be asleep?” Daniel steps out into the hall with us, tilting his head.  
“That’s what is says on the schedule,” Angi agrees, yawning.  
I’m sure that it is what’s written on the minute-by-minute schedule Christina distributed before lunch, but, “I can’t without Christina,” and, because Emily’s made this too easy, I turn to Jonah, “I know where she is, but we’re going to need a ladder.”  
Jonah nods solemnly, then directs Daniel, “Put some pants on.”  
“Where are we going?” He whines, while Zach looks giddy.  
“To commit crimes in the name of love.”

 

 


	4. Three In The Morning

Christina.

Counting sheep, attempting meditation, and pretending the sound of the subway is a gentle sea breeze all fail to make me fall asleep.  
I'm anxiously running through the list of things I can’t forget tomorrow, and wishing desperately for the sweet release of NyQuil or the energy to leave this apartment in order to buy something that’ll serve the same purpose, when I hear a chorus of suspiciously familiar voices underneath my window.

“I told you we needed a ladder,”  
“Stop squirming so much,”  
“If you’d just quit moving,”  
“I’m not!”  
“If we get arrested, do you think Harper will bail me out?”  
“We aren’t getting arrested.”  
“Right, because if we see red and blue lights we’re going to drop him and make a run for it,”  
“We’re not dropping anybody!”  
“Ouch!”  
“I told you to quit moving.”

Then fire escape creaks, the same clinking of metal rungs it made every time I climbed on it in college. Brooke got the bigger room in our apartment, but I got the one with the fire escape/tiny-personal-patio.  
I switch on the lamp, climb out of bed, then open the curtains.  
“Is that even stable?” Someone asks, sounding concerned.  
“It’s fine,” The voice I know best answers.  
I push the window up, “Corbyn?”  
His head jerks up, “Uh, hey, baby. Nice weather we’re having, huh?”  
On the ground below him, Daniel snorts.  
“Hi Christina,” Jonah salutes me.  
“Hi Jonah,” I raise an eyebrow, “Zach. Daniel.” They wave.  
“You guys can take off now,” Corbyn doesn’t even glance at them.  
“You’re welcome,” Zach answers sarcastically.  
Jonah hauls him away, “Bye, Christina.”  
“Bye, Jonah,” I laugh, “Zach. Daniel.”  
“Thanks,” Corbyn calls after them, but Daniel just waves him off.

“So,” Corbyn drawls, “Are you gonna let me in?”  
“Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?” I study him.  
“After you let me inside,” He grins, “Please, it’s freezing out here.”  
“It’s the middle of the night in April,” I step away from the window, and he tumbles inside, “What did you expect?”  
“The relative warmth and comfort of California has spoiled me,” Corbyn closes my window, then turns around to look at me, “Hey.”  
“Hi Corbyn,” I shake my head, but smile at him.

He immediately starts stripping, shucking his jeans down without removing his shoes first, then hopping around to get them off, before yanking his shirt over his head, pulling his hat off with it.  
“What do you think you’re doing?” I squeak.  
Corbyn stalks towards me in just his boxers, “Taking you to bed.”  
“Corbyn,” His name leaves my mouth as a yelp, when he picks me up in a fireman’s carry, then throws me down on the mattress.  
The headboard bangs against the wall, and I can’t help laughing, “Brooke and Jack definitely heard that.”  
He flops down beside me, banging the wall again, “Good,” Corbyn smirks, “Then maybe they won’t disturb us.”  
“Oh, yeah?” I wrestle the blankets up over us, because he wasn’t exaggerating, it is weirdly freezing now, “You got big plans?”  
“Yup,” He turns over, then pulls my arm around him, “Let’s sleep until noon.”  
“We’re supposed to be up by eleven.”  
“Close enough,” He decides, reaching out to off the light.

“Corbyn,” I whisper into the dark.  
“Yes?”  
“You didn’t answer the question.”  
He turns over, and I can barely see the cut of his jaw and outline of his hair in the dark, “Does it matter?”  
“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”  
“I don’t need luck, Chrissy," Corbyn touches his nose to mine, "I’ve got you.”

 

I wake up in the morning, not to Corbyn stirring or the sun shining on my face, but to Brooke, talking extremely loudly.  
Brooke is not a loud person.  
It takes a second to register what she’s doing, because my face is tucked against Corbyn’s spine, my toes are pressed into the back of his legs, and I’m almost too content to care.  
Then I hear Emily’s voice, “It’s already ten-thirty, Bee. What do you mean she’s still asleep?”  
“You know how she is,” Brooke laughs, and it sounds fake even from here, “So, Jimmy, huh?”  
“What?” Their footsteps come to an abrupt halt.  
Interesting.  
“It’s just,” I can picture Brooke’s shrug perfectly, “Christina mentioned you’ve been spending a lot of time together lately…”  
“Getting ready for today,” Emily protests, weakly, then seems to remember what Brooke distracted her from, stomping down the hall towards my room.  
“But, you think he’s cute, right?” Brooke tries to stall her.  
“Is there a particular reason you don’t want me in Christina’s room, Brooke?”  
“Nope!” Brooke answers, way too chipper, “No reason!”  
“Sure,” Emily does not sound convinced. She knocks on my door, yelling, “Wakey-wakey, Christina! Today’s the day!”  
I shake Corbyn, hissing, “Get up.”  
He turns his face further into the pillow, and I shake him again, "Corbyn."  
“Christina!” Emily calls again.  
“Just a minute!” I answer.  
“What do you mean just a minute?”  
“I’m,” Corbyn’s eyes fly open, and I point at the door, trying to communicate the trouble we’re in silently, and coming up with a reason Emily shouldn’t barge in here, “I’m indecent!”  
“What?” The doorknob turns, and Corbyn flips down, landing on the floor.  
“I’ve known you since we were four. There is no indecent between you and me. We took baths together,” Emily laughs, while the man I’m about to marry scrambles to hide under my bed.  
“Speaking of which,” Emily continues, crossing the room to throw my window open, then looking at me, “You’ve got to get in the shower. We’re supposed to leave in ten minutes, or you’re going to be late, sleepyhead.”  
“Right,” I jump out of bed, “I’ll just do that now.”  
“Great,” Emily grins, then very deliberately looks at my mattress, “Goodbye, Corbyn. Don’t trip on your way down.”  
“Bye, Em.” He chirps, and I groan.  
He pokes his head out, “Can I at least get a goodbye kiss?”  
Emily shoves me in the hallway, ignoring his request, “Goodbye, Corbyn!”

I don't know what it says about me that giggling hysterically with my best-friend and former-roommate while my fiancé sheepishly dresses then leaves through the window is the best possible way I could imagine starting my wedding day, but I know when Emily forces me into the bathroom, I don't feel anxious at all. 

 


	5. T Minus Seven Hours

Corbyn.

“I’m pretty sure breaking and entering is my thing,” Jack complains, sitting on the steps in front of Brooke’s apartment building, when he sees me stumbling out of the alleyway. He flips his phone, “I think I’m offended you didn’t ask for my expertise.”  
“I know I’m offended you snuck off to sleep here without me,” I cross my arms over my chest.  
“Bro, you seemed pretty resigned to Emily’s plans,” He grins, “I just didn’t want to rub it in your face.”  
“It was a stupid plan,” I lower my voice, because that's the truth, but Emily’s still terrifying.  
Jack laughs, “Not going to argue that point. If she really wanted to hide her, she should’ve put Christina up in a hotel somewhere else.”  
I shrug, “I’d have found her then too.”  
“Is that scary or romantic?” Jack tilts his head, like a puppy.  
I shove him towards the road, “Dude. I’m the most romantic, you don’t even know.”  
“I don’t know about that,” He smirks, “I heard your bed-frame last night.”  
“Get in the cab,” I don’t bother trying to protect his head when I push him into the taxi, or hiding my laugher, which was probably his goal anyway, judging by the extremely self-congratulatory smile he wears all the way back to midtown.

We’ve been a band for years, shoved into countless greenrooms and tourbuses sharing space until we’re almost too comfortable with each other and yet, somehow, getting ready together is still best described as a circus.  
Daniel is standing in his open doorway, holding a shoebox and yelling for Angi when we walk in the door of the suite, “Did you stay the silver box or the red one?”  
“Silver,” Angi answers from somewhere further inside, and Daniel notices us, grinning,“The runaways are home!”  
“Thank God,” Zach jokes, his voice carrying from the kitchen, “I was starting to think Emily caught you.”  
“She did,” Jack sells me out, “I heard it was glorious. Are you making coffee?”  
“As much as this contraption will spit out,” He confirms, and Eli corrects, “It’s an espresso machine.”  
“It makes caffeinated liquid, yes?” Jack leads me into the sprawling living room, where Eli, Harper, and Angi are organizing what looks like a ridiculous amount of luggage.  
“Uh-huh,” Zach answers, sticking his tongue out in concentration, and I decide maybe I don’t need coffee today.  
“What’s all this for?” I poke at one of their bags with my shoe.  
“Our clothes for today,” Angi shoves another smaller bag inside her suitcase.  
“I didn’t realize you were making that many costume changes,” I joke, and all the women in the room sigh.  
“Men,” Angi shakes her head, and Harper nods conspiratorially.  
“Hey, E?” Zach starts stacking mugs on the counter, “Do you want the first cup?”  
“No, thanks,” She doesn’t look up from folding a tiny pair of tights I’m assuming are for Mila, “I’m fine on water.”  
Jack does a double take, “Did you just turn down coffee?”  
“Do you have a fever?” Zach looks her up and down.  
“Are you hungover?” There’s a little bit of glee in my voice at that idea.  
Eli counts off her fingers, “Yes, I did. No, I don’t, and,” She looks me, “You know I don’t drink.”  
“Right,” I nod, because, yeah, I do know that, but the only person I’m capable of remembering anything about today is Christina, and mostly that’s just how I get her all to myself for a month after we make it thought this.  
Zach’s eyes are still wide, “But you turned down coffee.”  
“I’m trying to set a better example for Mila,” Eli lifts one shoulder, and her daughter choses that moment to bust out of their room. Jonah chases after her, a minuscule pair of skinny jeans still in his hand.  
“Mila,” Jack squats down to catch her, and she launches herself into his arms.  
“Unca ‘Ack,” Mila beams, her hand immediately tangling in his hair. She hasn’t quite got the hang of ‘J’ or ‘Z’ sounds yet, and it’s incredibly amusing when she wants Jack or Zach, because both of their names sound like ‘Ack’ in her tiny voice and they both jump for her the instant she says it.  
“Ah, La-la,” Jack winces standing up and reaching for Mila’s wrist, “Come on, I quit wearing chains for you. You gotta give me something here.”  
“No,” She pouts, her face adorably stubborn.  
Jack laughs, and everyone other than her parents join him, because Mila’s utter confidence is brilliant.  
“You’re hurting him, sweet-pea,” Eli gently, but firmly, pulls Mila’s hand out of his curls.  
“Hurts?” Mila blinks, looking between Eli and Jack, and when he nods, she pats his cheek apologizing, “Sorry,” which comes out a lot more ‘so-wee’.

I grin at them, then look at Zach, “I give the coffee moratorium a month.”  
He smirks, already taking out his phone to write in our shared wager, “Hundred bucks says she lasts two weeks.”

It’s kind of childish how often we make bets, more than a little idiotic, but exactly the sort of competition that within the band that works for us. We’ll put money on anything, then steal it out of each other’s wallets, but we never argue about who wins which solo on our next record.

“You’re on,” Jack hands Mila back to Jonah, “I say she makes it through six weeks.”  
“Nine,” Daniel decides, leaning over to help Angi zip her suitcase with the silver shoebox inside.  
“Jonah?” Zach glances at him.  
Eli’s standing in front of him to wrestle Mila’s pants on, and Jonah declares, “I won’t bet against my wife,” but palms her hair to kiss her cheek, and flashes three fingers at Zach behind her back.  
“I saw that,” Eli dimples, scooping the baby out of Jonah’s arms, then gestures towards the rest of the girls, “We have to get to the Church,” She makes eye-contact with me, smiling gently, “We’ll see you in a couple hours. Don’t panic.”

Right.  
Because in the familiarity of this chaos I forgot for a second, but I’m getting married today.  
I gulp down oxygen, nod, steal Jack’s cup out of his hand, and think about Christina in a bikini, and only Christina in a bikini.


	6. Half Past Five

I feel like I’m covered in a pound of makeup, with more hairspray than oxygen in my lungs, and a stomach full of anxious butterflies, when Emily finishes buttoning up my dress. She steps back, and I turn around, looking at my girls and taking in their reactions.  
Brooke recovers the fastest, grinning slyly, “You look incredible.”  
“Breathtaking,” Eli declares, pressing her knuckles over her mouth.  
“God, you’re hot, babe,” Emily plants her hands on her hips.  
Angi smiles, “Damn.”  
Harper, who was absent from our dress shopping misadventures (How many cities can you try on puffy monstrosities in? Turns out; twelve), gapes with Mila on her lap, “Wow. Christina. You look,” She shakes her head a little, “Wow.”  
There’s a knock on the door, sharp and loud, before I can respond, and Zach strolls in unbidden, “Ladies,” He grins.  
Jimmy is right behind him, holding one hand over his eyes and clutching two leashes in the other, “Everybody’s dressed, right?”  
“Jimmy,” Emily mocks, “Your fingers are spread out.”  
“Your point is?” He smirks at her with a familiarity I’m going to question later, but I’m too busy kneeling down to pet my puppy.  
“Coco,” I squish her face, and then scratch Tucker’s ears.  
Jimmy looks down at me, “I can’t believe you’re making me walk dogs down the aisle.”  
I don’t even look up, “This is my baby and first love you’re talking about. Have some respect.”  
He scoffs, jokingly, “You’re getting dog hair on your dress.”  
I ignore him, like usual.  
“Hey, Kitten,” Zach stands next to Harper’s chair, and I look over in time to watch him wiggle his eyebrows, “You clean up real nice.”  
Harper presses one high-heel clad foot to his thigh, “This outfit came with sharp shoes.”  
Zach tips his head, “Yup, and you always make dangerous look sexy.”  
“You should pop a couple more buttons on your shirt,” Harper suggests, biting her lip, and I notice his collar is undone.  
“Okay,” Eli drawls, stepping in between them to pick up Mila, frowning at Zach, “That’s enough innuendos towards my sister with my child between you.” She isn’t really chastising them, but they both blush adorably anyway.  
“Right, so,” Zach nods, “I need to borrow you because,” I stand up, and he forgets the rest of his sentence. “Jesus, you look fantastic,” Zach’s eyes are huge, “Like a fairy, or Wonder Woman, or something. Corbyn is going to lose his mind.”  
“That’s the plan,” I admit.  
“It’s foolproof,” My brother, in a rare show of solidarity, decides, then ruins it by continuing, “Even Corbyn couldn’t fuck it up.”  
I glare at him, “What are you doing here again?”  
“We’ve been sent to retrieve Eli.”  
“Why?” I don’t panic. That’s not why my voice goes all pitchy and my heart starts racing, “Is everything okay?”  
“Everything’s fine!” Zach holds up both his palms to stop me, “We just need to borrow her for a minute, and Daniel said they should get out there soon anyway.”  
“Let’s go sort it out then,” Eli drags Zach away, and Jimmy follows behind them, saluting me in the doorway.  
They haven’t made it two steps before Eli asks, “You can’t get your ties straight, can you?”  
“Corbyn claims he forgot, Jack’s almost went out the window, and Jonah decided we need help.”  
Eli laughs, which makes Mila giggle, and inside our little dressing room Brooke breaks first, then the rest of us, laughing harder than we should at something so minor, but it feels good to remember. That’s what all of this stuff is, really, minor. The only important thing here is Corbyn, and he’s down the hall failing to do something I know he’s done flawlessly hundreds of times.  
That’s the thought finally excites me.  
I don’t actually care about all this stuff, I just can’t wait to be his wife.


	7. T Minus Five Minutes

Corbyn.

“Did you guys buy out every florist in the state?” Jack knocks his elbow into me, staring out at the cathedral.  
“Must’ve,” I shake my head, because I know exactly how much this cost, and somehow the final effect feels worth it.  
There’s millions, maybe billions, of white flowers, covering walls, hanging from the ceiling in delicate lines, and the aisle Christina will walk down is entirely paved in white roses.  
It’s a dutch tradition, something she must have discussed with my mother and neglected to tell me, but it makes my heart thud erratically in my chest.  
From the alcove I’m hiding in, I can barely see our families filling in the front rows, Zach and Jordan ushering people to their seats, and Daniel and Eli, standing with a guitar and sitting at the piano, playing softly. When their melody changes, Jonah’s hand lands on my shoulder and he squeezes then smooths the white jacket of my tux. His other hand keeps Mila anchored to his hip, and he looks me in the eye, “That’s my cue.”  
I nod, rapidly.  
Jonah whispers something to his daughter, and she leans over to press her mouth to my cheek, “G’uk, unca bean.”  
“Thanks, princess,” I blow a raspberry on her cheek, and watch her dimple as Jonah carries her away.  
Jimmy, or rather, Coco and Tucker, find us a minute later. I bend down to pet them, and he looks me over, “You ready for this?”  
“I’ve been warned there’s a plan to handcuff me to the pulpit if I answer otherwise,” I lean against Jack.  
“This is accurate,” He confirms.  
Jimmy laughs, but says sincerely, “I’ve been looking forward to this for years.”  
It’s that sentiment, from Christina’s brother who once threatened to crush all the fingers in my guitar playing hand if I broke her heart, that makes me choke up.  
“Ah, man,” He smacks his hand on my back, “Save that for her. You’re going to bawl when you see her, and we’re having it recorded in five different angles. It’s going to be glorious.”  
“I’m not going to cry,” I mutter.  
“You’re gonna sob like a baby,” Jimmy grins, and suddenly the tiny dictator Christina hired to be our wedding planner appears.  
“Showtime, gentleman,” She announces, and I take deep breath, watching Jordan show our mother to her seat, and Zach help Christina’s mom to hers. Instead of walking back up the aisle, they line up behind me.  
Daniel sets his guitar down and does the same, then Eli starts playing in earnest.  
I’m pushed, stumbling on my first step towards the alter, with Jordan right behind me, when the melody she’s playing sinks in.  
Eli starts singing, her voice powerful and achingly-sweet in this space, and I can barely focus on the words, starting at the closed french doors on the other side of the aisle.

“The night sky once ruled my imagination,  
Now I turn the dials with carful calculation  
After a while, I thought I’d never find you,  
I convinced myself that I would never find you,  
And Suddenly, I saw you,”

The rest of my groomsmen fill in beside me, while the pastor takes his place, nodding seriously at me. I think I incline my head towards him, but all my focus is on trying to open doors with the power of my mind.

“At first, I thought you were a constellation,  
I made a map of your stars and I had a revelation  
You’re as beautiful as endless,  
You’re the universe I’m helpless in,  
An astronomer at my best,  
when I throw away the measurements,”

One door opens, and Jonah slips out, holding one of Mila’s hands, and her petal basket. There’s a chorus of awes I miss completely, but I can’t help smiling when Mila very deliberately throws a handful of petals at my feet before Jonah scoops her up and moves to stand at the end of our side.

“Like a telescope, I will pull you so close,  
‘Til no space lies in between,”  
“And suddenly I see you,  
Suddenly, I see you,”

Both doors fly open then, by some miracle, and there she is.  
Christina.  
The sigh of her, on her father’s arm, her eyes finding mine immediately, ratchets my pulse faster, but throughly stills my mind.

“I was a billion little pieces  
Until you pulled me into focus,  
Astronomy in reverse,  
It was me who was discovered,”

She’s halfway to me when I notice what she’s wearing, and I stop breathing for a moment.

“A billion little pieces,  
You pulled me into focus,  
Astronomy in reverse,  
It was me who was discovered  
Like a telescope,  
I will pull you so close,  
‘Til no space lies in between,”

I could count her ribs in the deep delicate cut in the front of her dress, and the way the material floats from her waist to the floor is unreal. There’s no veil obscuring her face, her perfect little smile directed only at me, but the cape flowing behind her over the carpet of roses she designed in my family tradition makes me remember all the times she’s saved me, just by being herself.  
Christina is nearly beside me, and I’m staring at the detail on the tulle covering her body. Her dress isn’t embroidered with flowers, or lace, but instead she’s covered in stars.  
She is a constellation.  
Utterly celestial.

“Suddenly, I see you  
Suddenly, I see you.”

Her hand is placed in mine, and I thumb the tears away from my eyes, leaning down slightly to whisper, “You are perfect.”  
She beams up at me.  
My whole universe, positively glowing.

 

 

 

 


	8. Six O'Clock In The Evening

Christina.

“Are you crying?” I mouth the words to Corbyn, a lighthearted tease, because I feel like we’re the only two people on the planet, even while my bridesmaids find their marks beside me, Eli collecting Mila and crossing the pulpit to stand on my side.  
Not that I see that happen, because Corbyn, in a tux, is directly in front of me.  
I’ve always loved him in a suit.  
He tightens his grip on my hand, and I bite down on my laughter because I designed this moment, and I want to relish it. Plus, I’m looking forward to the mess he’s going to be when we actually get down to business here.  
The minister clears his throat, and we both turn to look at him guiltily.

Our guests are given a welcome, a command to be seated, there’s a reading, and potentially an opportunity for objection, none of which I actually hear because I’m floating in the haze of Corbyn’s eyes.

“Before they exchange their vows,” The pastor continues, “I’d like to give Corbyn and Christina the opportunity to share in their own words why we’re here today,” He looks at Corbyn, “Corbyn, if you would like to start?”

“Chrissy,” Corbyn runs his fingers over the ring he’s already put on my left hand. The beautiful rose-gold band, the square diamond set in a compass point, just unusual enough to be exactly me. He picked it out, in the first minute, in the first stop we visited. “You are brilliant, and beautiful, and hilarious, and so fucking loud,” I laugh at his brazenness to curse in a church, “And you always make the best of Tuesdays.”  
Someone, likely Emily snorts, and more than few more people in the pews chuckle. Tuesdays are my least favorite day of the week, and I have no idea where he’s going with this.  
“You complain, and kick, and scream a little,” He clarifies, “But you also make avocado toast picnics and insist we eat dinner on the balcony,” He grins, “Even when the only balcony we had was your tiny fire escape. You make waiting rooms feel like Disney world, tourbuses and airplanes feel like home. Anything I do with you is better than my favorite things alone. You make the Tuesdays worth enduring, and my life worth living.”

“Christina?” The minister prompts, and I try not to lock my knees, cry, or rush out what I want to say to Corbyn, even if his words have basically made me a puddle on the floor.  
“Corbyn, you are the strangest person I’ve ever met,” His bandmates cackle, but Corbyn knows this is a compliment. “By that, I mean you’re my favorite. I love the way you look at the world, upside-down and inside-out and everything in between. Your curiosity thrills me. There isn’t a problems you couldn’t solve. Your grin still makes me dumbstruck, and because I still haven’t figured out how not be madly in love with everything about you, I know I always will be.”

Corbyn’s smile could power the city twenty times over, as he turns to take our rings from his brother. His voice doesn’t shake as repeats after the minister,  
“I give you this ring as a symbol of our marriage,” My hand trembles, but his grip is steady, sliding the diamond band slowly past my fingertip, “With every part of me, I honor you. All that I am, I give to you,” The ring slips over my knuckle, “And all that I have, I share with you,” Corbyn’s steady commanding voice centers me, “In failure and in triumph, in plenty and in want, in sickness and in heath,” The words I’ve imagined him speaking since we were sixteen sound infinitely sweeter now, accompanied by the delicate clink of this band against my engagement ring, “Today, tomorrow, and for the rest of our lives.”

 

 

 

“So I have an idea,” Corbyn’s eyes glow dangerously beneath all the candles and white flowers filling every available space in the Rainbow Room, “You can say no.”  
It’s cute he still thinks that, when the most I’ve ever been able to manage with him is ‘later’, “Go on,” I focus on putting my feet in the right place, and not looking at the hundreds of people watching us waltz.  
“It’s like this,” He whispers in my ear, before spinning me away, and I know when he pulls me back the next words out of his mouth are going to be anything but sweet. He tugs me inches closer than he’s supposed to, and I let him, “You look better than anything I’ve ever seen,” He turns us, “Delectable,” His hand on my waist inches higher, “So, so perfect, baby,” Corbyn sounds pained, “Your fancy hair and pretty eyelashes,” He groans, “I have to get you alone. I wanna wreck you.”  
I have no recourse, except words, hissing, “You can’t say stuff like that,” even while I think ‘please, please, please keep saying stuff like that.’  
Corbyn hears exactly what I don’t say, “This dress,” His thumb slips under the tulle on my back, “Those shoes,” His voice gets impossibly lower.  
I lean in, and let him dip me, like I have every time we practiced this choreography, absolutely silent. His mouth brushes mine, unlike in all our practice sessions, “God, baby. You don’t even know what you do to me.”  
“Corbyn,” I mutter, catching sigh of his grandmother, “There are other people here.”  
“I know,” He croaks, “There’s so many other people here, they won’t even notice if we bail.”  
“They most certainly will notice if we disappear,” I protest.  
“Just for a little while,” His fingers continue climbing my ribcage, “Just give me an hour. We’ll be back in time for cake,” His breath is hot in my ear, “You’ve been so tense, planning all this. I’ll make you feel so good. I promise.”  
I grab his hand, stopping him from moving it up any further, and he smirks, “That’s cool, baby. This dress is so delicate, I don’t need my hands,” He pushes us even closer together, “I bet I could take it off you with my teeth.”  
“Corbyn,” I’m helpless to the way his name breaks on my tongue.  
“Yeah, just like that,” He whispers, “I wanna make you scream my name, just like that. For days.”  
I take a half-step back, even while I’m dying to yank his bowtie off, “Four more hours.”  
“It feels like I’ve been waiting four lifetimes,” He doesn’t budge, if anything, he presses me more completely into every hard line of his body, “Tell me you want it too, Chrissy. Please,” He begs, and I have never been so relieved to see Saskia, or hear the end of a John Legend song.  
I shove him at his mother and flee, because we've paid good money for this party, and I'm not going to miss a second of it. No matter how tempting he is.


	9. T Plus Ninety Minutes

Corbyn.

My brother takes the microphone first, when the band leaves the stage and the first course of dinner has been served.   
He taps it twice looking wooden and awkward on stage, because he doesn’t possess even an ounce of the confidence I’ve carved for myself in that position.   
Christina whistles, obnoxiously catcalling him, and Jordan’s shoulders inch down from his ears.   
“Good evening,” He starts, addressing the room, “For those of you who don’t know, I’m Jordan, Corbyn’s brother, and his best-man. I’m really excited to be presiding over the only five minutes of today Christina didn’t plan,”   
Predictably, the crowd laughs. Emily, standing beside the stage positively cackles.   
“When I sat down to write this speech,” Jordan continues, “I started by googling best best-man speeches, but they wanted my credit card information, so I just decided to wing-it,”   
He gets more laughter, and starts to relax, “In all seriousness,” Jordan turns away, and focuses on Christina, “Corbyn was the man of our house growing up. He was the smart one, quiet and serious about everything. Until he met Christina,” He grins, “She encouraged his every wacky enthusiastic pursuit, shared his deeply strange sense of humor, and gave us this whole side of my brother I didn’t even know existed until he was sixteen. There’s this Dr. Seuss quote that always makes me think you guys,” Jordan takes a breath, “We’re all a little weird, and life’s a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love,” His smile softens, “Christina, Corbyn isn’t a serious man around you, and I can never thank you enough for that,” He raises his glass, “To Corbyn and Christina, to your mutual weirdness forever.”

“Are you crying?” I whisper in Christina’s ear, thrilled at my chance for payback at her earlier tease, then pinch her leg when she doesn’t respond.   
“I refuse to answer that question,” She hisses back, whipping the corner of her eyes with her cloth napkin, but I catch the edge of her smile.

Emily steps up next, taking the microphone from his hand, already smirking, “Hi,” She does a quarter of a twirl, admiring her captive audience, “If you’re here today, you already know I’m Christina’s best friend,”   
Christina cups her hands over her mouth to yell out, “Go best friend!”   
Emily laughs, “And I’m so proud to be her maid of honor tonight,” She continues, “I’ve had Christina since before I had braces, before she discovered contacts, before I found a purpose for my life, and before she started her YouTube channel. And for all that time, I thought the idea of soulmates was bullshit,” Emily smiles at the shocked inhale of a handful of our older relatives, but doesn’t look away from us, “I’d also never known anyone more unashamed to be themselves than Christina, until she introduced me to Corbyn. His very existence proved my idea wrong. Soulmates are real, because he is undoubtably hers. They amplify each other in perfect harmony and it is a thing of genuine wonder to witness. They make each other happier than anyone has any right to be,” She clears her throat, then fake glares at me, “Still, Corbyn, I want you to know just how much I gave up for you today. Christina was the person I was supposed to grow old and mean with. We were going to sit on the front porch of our nursing home and make fun of everybody for our own amusement until we forgot what we were doing there. But she chose true love over me, so you’ll have to forgive me for being occasionally bitter and spending too much time camped out in your guest room,” She tips her champagne towards us, “To soulmates and true love, because you guys make me believe in both, you disgusting lobsters.”

Christina laughs through her tears, and I nod seriously at Emily, because she is both terrifying and awesome, while Christina’s dad climbs up on stage.   
James Harris, in contrast to Emily and Jordan, is completely comfortable in the spotlight. He thanks Emily for the microphone and scans the room, taking it all in, “I’d like to begin my toast by thanking you all for being here today. It means the world to our family to have you with us to celebrate this joyous occasion,” He turns towards us, “Corbyn, Christina is strong, and clever, and independent, and ambitious like no one else I’ve ever met, but I don’t want to stand up here and read you a list of things you already know,” He chuckles, “Instead, I’d like to tell you about the first time she told me about you. We were in the car, driving together somewhere I’ve forgotten, to buy something else I’ve also forgotten, but I’ve never been able to get the picture of my teenage daughter’s eyes out of my head as she told me about this Singing Boy,” He says singing like ‘ridiculous’, “My wife would tell you Christina’s impulsive, and that she gets it from me,” Mrs. Harris, sitting down the table, nods resolutely, “But I’d argue instead, that we’re both simply swift decision makers and once we decide on something, we chase it with, perhaps too much, ferocity. I knew in that moment that she had decided on you, and none of us would get any rest until she had you,” He chuckles, “Fortunately, you were happy to go along with her plans, which has in the years since you were teenagers, become a fairly accurate summary of your life,” I laugh, because it’s true. Christina is the planner, and I’m her proud yes-man, “To be honest,” Mr. Harris continues, “I’m so grateful the man she decided was you, not only because you are an outstanding partner for Christina, who always values her needs and wishes above your own, but because you’re just fun to be around, a terrific friend, and really wonderful son. I’m thrilled to welcome you to our family,” I don’t bother trying to pretend his words don’t make my eyes wet. Mr. Harris’s attention moves away from me, to look at his daughter, “Christina,” He shakes his head as if to clear it, “I’ve been so lucky to be your dad, but I’m even luckier to have you as my best friend. People tell me it’s rare to be so close to your daughter, that I must’ve done something right, but I know something they don’t,” He spins the glass in his hand, “You’ve always been so special, it doesn’t have much to do with me. The same is true about today,” His eyes get shiny, “You created this incredible day, and deserve all the credit for it. Can I get a round of applause for Christina?” The room erupts in clapping and whistling, mine the loudest of all, then Mr. Harris smiles at Christina, “I want you to remember you might be Corbyn’s wife now, but you will always be my baby girl. You are the light of my life and I can sleep well tonight, because I know you’re the light of his too,” Mr. Harris lifts his glass, “To my daughter, the Bride, and my brand-new son, the Groom.”

Christina buries her face in the shoulder of my tux, trying to hide her overflowing emotions, and I nudge her face up to lock eyes. Then I kiss her, and the sound of every glass in the room banging together completely fades away.   
Nothing can compete with her.


	10. Eleven Thirty At Night

Christina.

“You’re going to want to see this,” Brooke yanks me, none to delicately, away from a conversation with one of Corbyn’s great-uncles.  
“Am I though?” I complain for our company’s sake, while silently thanking Brooke for the rescue. Thanking three-hundred people for coming to a dinner we paid for is exhausting, and I’ve lost Corbyn somewhere.  
She just grins, delivering me to the front of the dance-floor, where up on stage, I finally notice where my husband’s gone.  
My husband, the thought makes me feel stupidly smug.  
My husband, who I realize in horror, is adjusting a mic-stand in centerstage surrounded by his bandmates, smirking down at me.  
“Oh, god,” I mutter to Brooke, and she laughs even while she nods. Corbyn’s sister, Ashley, jumps up and down next to us.  
I might’ve joked about this, but I didn’t think he’d actually do it.  
“Good evening,” Corbyn clears his throat, “As many of you know, Christina’s never made anything easy for me,”  
The boys on stage laugh, loudly, at that.  
Corbyn smiles, “I only got her to agree to marry me on three conditions,”  
I shake my head, even though I know where this is going.  
“First,” He holds up three fingers, then folds down one, “I’m never allowed to name another pet. Second, I wasn’t allowed an opinion on anything wedding related except,” He pitches his voice higher to mock mine, “‘No, baby. That’s a perfectly reasonable amount of money to pay for that,’” This makes half the crowd roar, and me blush. “And finally,” Corbyn drops his hand, “I had to sing at our reception. So, this is me making good on that promise,” He fidgets with his mic, and Daniel picks up a guitar, “I conscripted my brothers into this one, I hope that’s okay,” He winks at me, and I give in, whistling my approval at his ridiculousness.  
Daniel hasn’t played two chords before I know exactly which song Corbyn picked, so when Brooke throws her arm around me, already giddy, and I know I’m making the same face.  
It’s the cheesiest, most sentimental choice he could’ve made. Virtually guaranteed to make me feel like we’re sixteen all over again, and he’s changing song lyrics to house my name and trying to impress me over FaceTime.  
It’s perfect.  
“Hey there, Christina,” Corbyn crones, “What’s it like in New York city? I’m a thousand miles away, but, girl, tonight you look so pretty,” I don’t know how he gets the words out around his grin, but his voice, like always, makes me feel like he’s pulled my heart straight out of my chest. “Yes, you do. Times Square can’t shine as bright as you. I swear, it’s true.”  
“Hey there, Christina. Don’t you worry about the distance. I’m right there if you get lonely, give this song another listen. Close your eyes, listen to my voice, it’s my disguise, I’m by your side.”  
“Oh, it’s what you do to me. Oh, it’s what you do to me,” Daniel, Jack, Zach, and Jonah harmonize, adding layers to the song, but still letting Corbyn’s voice shine.  
“Oh, it’s what you do to me. Oh, it’s what you do to me.”  
“What you do to me,” Corbyn winks at me again.  
Brooke leans in closer, and whispers, “He’s all yours.”  
I think it’s supposed to be a tease, but to me, it feels like reassurance.  
The beautiful goofball singing ancient love songs on stage in front of basically everyone we know belongs to me.  
He’s all mine.  
I’m smiling so wide my cheeks hurt before he even gets to the second verse.

 

 

The elevator doors close on handful of rose petals still being pleated at us, and Corbyn’s electric smirk is reflected off every surface in the marble square we’re stuck in.  
I take two steps backwards until my spine hits the wall, and breath out in relief. We did it.  
“Hi, baby.” Corbyn is still smirking when I open my eyes, “Hi.”  
His tux somehow survived being tossed up in a chair and dancing for hours, clinging slightly more than it had this afternoon, but in a way that just makes him look hotter. His shoulders are accentuated enough to make my mouth water, and with his bowtie undone to frame his Adam’s apple, I’m desperate to taste him. He runs his hand through his hair, and I catch the thick platinum band on his left ring finger.  
I’m staring. I know I am, but I can’t stop.  
“Today was perfect,” He declares.  
“I’m wearing Brooke’s shoes,” It’s the first thing I think of, but I can’t believe I haven’t told him yet.  
“What?” Corbyn’s voice goes up.  
“Mine got left in California,” I explain, shaking my head, “Didn’t you notice her wearing combat boots? And Mila’s dress is rigged together with ribbon in the back because we assumed she’d grow,”  
“Silly,” He laughs, which, it was. Mila’s super-tiny.  
“Yeah, well,” I laugh too, “Ashley spilled coffee on her dress, and I think my dad was wearing the wrong tie.”  
“Today was perfect,” He repeats, “Every bit of it.”  
“I…” I nod, “I think so too.”  
“And how’re you doin’ now?” The tease in his voice is obvious.  
“Fine,” I bite down on my smile, still not looking up at him.  
“You’re standing pretty far away from me for fine,” He taps his fingers against his thigh, making the ring catch the light.  
“It’s for safety.”  
“Yours or mine?” He chuckles, the sound so fucking fond and warm and deep, it heats me to my core.  
“Both,” I finally meet his eyes.  
“There’s my wife,” Corbyn layers possession and reverence all over statement, echoing everything I’m thinking about his wedding ring.  
I didn’t know how much I’d like it.  
I like it so, so, so much.  
The sentence Brooke whispered in my ear, half-joking but sincere, is the last coherent thought I can muster before I leap.

He’s all mine.

 

“Don’t fall asleep,” Corbyn shakes my shoulder.  
“But,” I whine into his chest.  
“Don’t fall asleep,” He pulls me up to sitting, “We have to be at the airport in a couple hours.”  
“Corbyn,” I groan.  
“I’m sorry,” He is not remotely apologetic.  
We’re in a presidential suite, on a floor above the band’s, with a massive bed and even more luxurious shower. Both of which, we’ve already taken advantage of.  
“Come on,” Corbyn tugs on the sleeve of his hoodie I stole to sleep in, “Let’s check out the balcony. Maybe the view looks different from up here.”  
“It’s, like, twenty feet higher than usual,” I grumble, even while I follow him outside.  
New York is stunning at night. Millions of tiny lights and the music of Manhattan make my soul happy. I might live in California now, but I get homesick for this.  
We’ve been outside for less than a minute before I hear real music.  
Guitar first, then a familiar voice, “Hey. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, angel,” Daniel’s voice curves around that word, and I don’t need to look over the balcony to know he’s singing to Angelina. “Love your imperfections, every angle. Tomorrow comes and goes before you know, so I just had to let you know,”  
Corbyn takes my hand, pulling me towards the edge, and brining the lower level balcony into view. Daniel’s strumming away on his guitar, his eyes fixed on Angelina still in her bridesmaid dress, “The way that Gucci look on you, amazing, but nothing can compare to when you’re naked. Now a backwood and some henny got you faded, you’re saying you’re the one for me, I need to face it,” He drags out the lyrics, and she laughs.  
They’re on one half of the couch outside, the rest of our little band family and most of everyone’s siblings circled around in various stages of fancy dress, Eli and Mila in their pajamas, but Harper appears to be wearing Zach’s sweatpants under her gown.  
They all look relaxed, and happy, and if I have to stay awake for the next two hours, I absolutely want to join them.  
Corbyn follows me without question.  
I think to myself that I love that about him, but then again, I love everything about him.


	11. Forever

Corbyn.

It’s chaos of congratulations and cheering when Christina opens the doors to the patio, enough to wake Mila up, and send Jonah rocking her away from the crowd, his voice drifting over from the edge of our group, “I’ve been waiting for you, to come around and tell me the truth ‘bout everything that you’re going through.”  
His voice stills the rest of us too, and when Daniel catches the lyrics he starts to strum the cords on the guitar he’d forgotten a minute before.  
“My girl you’ve got nothing to lose,” Jonah sings, louder now with our attention, “Cold night and the Sunday mornings, on your way and out of the grey.”  
Christina folds herself into my lap, her boney hip digging into my abdomen and elbow catching my ribs in a way that makes me grunt. She tries to move again, and I trap her firmly with my arm around her waist, smiling into her hair.  
Jonah rocks Mila, “I’ve got time, I’ve got love, got confidence you’ll rise above. Give me a minute to hold my girl, give me a minute to hold my girl.”

Ashley flicks her eyes away from Jonah to address Eli, “How are you not pregnant, like, all the time?”  
“Ash,” I spit out her name, expecting Christina to scold her with me, but instead Christina just starts giggling hysterically.  
I glance around the table, the rest of the guys looking as confused as I am, but Harper absolutely cackles while Brooke smirks shyly and Angi coughs delicately.  
My eyes land on Eli last, and she’s hiding her face in her palms.  
Daniel puts it together first, his hands falling off his guitar, “You’re?”  
Jonah stopped singing at all their laugher, and moved to stand front of Eli, gaping, Mila still smushed against his shoulder, “Elijah?”  
“I ordered tee-shirts,” She doesn’t uncover her eyes, “I was waiting until after the wedding,”  
“Wedding’s over,” Christina practically purrs, spreading her arms out in joy, smacking Zach in the process.  
“It was going to be so cute,” Eli continues.  
“Gorgeous,” Jonah hooks a finger over her wrist to lift her hand off her face. Eli immediately reaches for Mila, and he passes her down, the baby settling in Eli’s lap.  
Eli presses their foreheads together, “Where’s the baby, mon petit chou?”  
“Mommy’s tummy,” Mila pats Eli’s abdomen, then puts her little arms around Eli’s neck.  
Eli hugs her closer, “That’s right. Good job, sweet pea.” She finally looks up at Jonah, and he’s already beaming.  
“Really?” Jonah is almost bouncing.  
When she nods, he basically tackles her, pinning Mila between them to kiss Eli enthusiastically, only stopping when Mila protests, “Daddy! You mushing me!”  
“Sorry, darling,” He switches to kissing Mila all over her face, making her break into high-pitch giggles.  
Harper is the first to interrupt, scoffing with air-quotes, “Trying to set a better example for Mila.”  
“You be quiet,” Eli blushes, “It was the best I could do at the time.”  
Jonah’s smile is so big you could see it from space, “I hope all our babies are as terrible liars as you.”  
There’s more congratulations, and Mila is definitely awake now, as Zach pulls her out of Eli’s arms, “Another La-la,” He coos, “I can’t wait.”  
“I imagine they’ll name the next one something different, bro, but maybe you'll actually get a Rory this time,” Jack drawls, and everyone, including Zach, laughs.  
“I guess we should come clean too,” Daniel grins, reaching out to Angelina, hooking his finger in a delicate chain around her neck I hadn’t noticed before, and pulling the necklace out from under her dress. Hanging off of it, there’s a diamond ring.  
“No,” Christina cries, immediately, “When did this happen?”  
Eli knocks her foot against Daniel’s knee, “I told you she would say yes.”  
Angelina shakes her head, “I didn’t really though. I just woke up wearing it last week.”  
“We got all the way through breakfast before she noticed,” Daniel looks extraordinarily pleased with himself.  
“You didn’t ask?” Brooke narrows her eyes at him, but it’s playful.  
“I didn’t want to give her the chance to say no,” He shrugs.  
I hold my fist out towards him, “I respect that. Congrats, man.”  
He taps his knuckles to mine, and Christina launches herself at Angelina, pulling her up then bouncing on her toes. “Oh, my god, you’re getting married,” Christina pulls back slightly, to examine the ring, then glares at her, “And you were going to make me wait a month to find out?”  
Angelina rolls her eyes, “You’re going to Fiji, not Mars. I was going to text you tomorrow.” She realizes what she said the moment after it leaves her mouth, and turns to me with her eyes huge, “Damn. Sorry, Corbyn.”  
“Fiji?” Christina turns towards me, still hugging Angelina.  
“It’s not too late to exchange the tickets,” I stare her down.  
She narrows her eyes at me, “You wouldn’t dare.”  
“No, I wouldn’t,” I admit, because nothing on this planet or any other could stop me from spending the next month following her around the most lush place on earth like the besotted fool I am. Christina jumps up and down with renewed enthusiasm, and I smirk at Angelina mouthing, “This is your wedding present,” in the moment before the rest of the females on the balcony surround her and start weeping over her pretty diamond (Eli, because baby-hormones make her a complete sap) and berate Daniel for his lack of confidence (Brooke, because she suffered through their ridiculous courtship long enough to know that for him Angelina’s a sure thing).

I introduced Christina to the guys as my future-wife when we were seventeen. It wasn’t a joke, even though I’m positive everyone else took it that way.  
I couldn’t have known then, the family we’d build to get here. I would never have predicted all the ways we’d grow and change, but in this moment, I can see our fiftieth anniversary. I can see us, old and gray and still stupid over each other, with exactly these same people.  
Watching Christina celebrate them, already planning Angelina and Daniel’s wedding and designing our future niece/nephew’s nursery, when I know she’s been plotting Jack’s not-so-secret proposal for months now too, it strikes me just how well she loves.  
Christina doesn’t do anything by halves, but if she loves you, she’s all in. There’s no question, no limit to what she’d do for any of them. For me.

I was lying earlier, when I said that Christina never makes anything easy for me.  
Loving her is easy.  
Loving her is _effortless_ , even when it’s hard.  
I’m so grateful I get to do it for _eternity_.

**Author's Note:**

> For S.;  
> For having great taste in boybands.
> 
> For everyone who has written a kind comment or kudos-ed this series;  
> These started as my silly daydreams, a dare to get me out of my head, and became something I really cared about watching you care about it.  
> Thank you for inspiring me, encouraging me, and sticking with me until the end.  
> You’re the very best.
> 
>  
> 
> And for N.;  
> For everything else  
> (and always skipping to the notes.)


End file.
